


Golden Girl

by Margaery



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Breakfast, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margaery/pseuds/Margaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria has something to say about Grigor's Acapulco photoshoot/date with Genie Bouchard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Grigor's [Acapulco photoshoot/date with Genie](http://www.atpworldtour.com/News/Tennis/2014/02/9/Acapulco-Bay-Dimitrov-Bouchard.aspx). And yes, the media's already had a field day joking about how Maria's going to be wildly jealous and hinting that she better keep her eye on "her man".

“So,” Maria says.

Her hair gleams in the early morning sunlight, pale-gold, and Grigor’s still a bit mixed-up on his timezones, but he wants to gather her up in his arms, wants to press his lips to that gleam until she laughs and tips her head back, drawing him down into a real kiss.

She leans her elbows on the countertop, her eyebrows a considering arch over her coffee cup, and he doesn’t know how she manages to be quite so elegant always. Or, not always: he’s seen her snorting with laughter, her face flushed and her hair askew, and he’s seen her wearing one of his hoodies, grumpy and half-asleep, with a fleck of toothpaste foam on her cheek. He’s been with her in the quiet moments after a bad match, curled into the corner of a couch, and in the exuberant moments after a wonderful one, spinning giddily around the floor in stocking feet.

And yet it’s the moments like this, half-asleep in the Californian dawn, when he looks at her and sees the elegance in every line of her body, as she leans on a countertop sipping coffee and looking like a princess, entirely and utterly out of his league.

“So,” she says again, and the eyebrow arch has definitely become amused now. “Bouchard, huh?”

It takes him by surprise, and he flushes, feeling the rich color flood up into his face. “Masha.”

She’s grinning. When Maria grins, it shows up in her eyes first, but this time it’s rapidly spreading to the rest of her face as well. “You two made a pretty couple.”

He leans on the countertop across from her and drops his head theatrically into his hands. “As everyone won’t stop telling me.”

Maria pats him consolingly on the head.

“It was just a photoshoot thing!” he wails, laying it on thick, because she’s laughing, and making fun of himself has always come naturally to him. “I thought Baby Fed was bad enough, but now the teasing’s starting to get ridiculous.”

“Poor Gricho,” Maria says, still laughing. “Objectified for your looks. Picked for eyecandy photoshoots. Gossiped about in connection with every pretty girl. Welcome to the big leagues, doll.”

He’d rather be in the big leagues for his tennis than for his looks, or for his girlfriend, but it’s easier to joke about it now that he’s finally starting to get the results he wants. Pushing Nadal at the Australian Open helped, as did winning his first title, and then his second. He doesn’t mind being objectified, exactly, it’s just he’d rather it wasn’t the _only_ thing people thought about when they thought about him.

“Although,” Maria’s saying, and there’s a rustle of paper, “you’ve still got a lot to learn.” She clears her throat. “‘This is definitely the best experience I’ve ever had on tour,’ Dimitrov said. ‘I was happy to be able to do something like this. It is pretty special and we definitely have something to talk about in the future. It was nice to get to do this in such good weather, great city. It was very exciting! It’s definitely nice to take off the morning this way.’”

“So maybe fewer ‘definitely’s,” Grigor says, thunking his head into the countertop. “And your impression of me needs work.”

She ruffles his hair. “I like it this way.”

He raises his head and smiles at her. “Breakfast?” Neither of them are an excellent cook, but he can manage eggs pretty well. And cutting up fruit. And putting toast on.

“We’ll have to make it quick,” she says, a fleeting look of regret crossing her face. “I have practice, and then a sponsor thing.”

“I’m good at making it quick,” he tells her, and then backtracks. “Well. I’m also good at making it last.”

“Later,” she says, smiling at his waggling eyebrows. “When you wouldn’t fall asleep during.”

He’d protest, but he’s fairly sure she might be right. He’s not very good at sleeping on planes, and a soft warm bed sounds pretty good right about now. So does kissing Masha, though, and he gets sidetracked for a few minutes, her hand on the back of his neck drawing him down, his hands on her waist holding her close. She tastes like coffee and laughter, and he’s missed her.

After, she swats his ass when he leans over to rummage for eggs in the refrigerator. “So, thanks for all the barely-veiled stories about how you’re probably cheating on me with the golden girl.”

“You’re my golden girl,” Grigor says, aiming for cheesy, but it comes out a bit softer than he intended. He coughs and tries again, turning away to find a bowl for the fruit. “Besides, Robson would have my balls.”

Maria finds him the bowl, and a pan for the eggs too. “Yes, well,” she says, and there’s something in her voice too. “We can’t have that happening. I have uses for those.”

“Do you, now?” Grigor says, laughing, and nearly burns the eggs.


End file.
